100 Sins
by Elijah Maddoxx
Summary: After the murder of Hailey, Hotch engages in a last minute effort to rescue Jack and stop Foyet once and for all. During the fight to the finish, Derek Morgan re-introduces himself to The Reaper. ONE-SHOT *Rated M for blood and gore*


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Hey peeps! =D I'm currently about 5 chapters into working on Redux, which is an OC x Derek Morgan centric, but I decided to take a tiny break from that and give writing my first oneshot a…shot. LOL.

The story is set around the time of Criminal Minds episode "100." Before George Foyet attacked Hotch and his family, there was another individual he had attacked that he seemed to had forgotten about. That person never really got his just reward for it, so I decided to play with a little scenario.

This is the fight between Hotch and The Reaper, with a little twist to it. Angsty, heartbreaking, and action packed. It is my first one-shot, and I'm trying to find a balance between my love for description and keeping a good pace. I hope the readers enjoy it.

R&R! ^_^

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Criminal Minds.

**100 SINS TO ANSWER FOR**

Time was ticking down. It had only been a few minutes earlier that Hailey Hotchner had uttered her last words before those three solitary gunshots instantly turned the stomachs and squeezed the hearts of everyone who had the unfortunate displeasure to listen in. One by one, each reaction from everyone on the team was different, all holding the same array of emotions – shock, grief, dismay, sadness, even a hint of anger.

The door burst open as the former Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit stormed in, gun raised and ready to fire on the first thing he saw. His heart somersaulted in his chest as his senses were on the highest alert. This sick son of a bitch had already taken his wife. He was NOT going to let Jack suffer the same fate.

He entered room after room, waving the gun around every corner; somewhat hoping he'd spot George Foyet so he could put the psychopath out of everyone's misery.

As he got to the kitchen, he pulled a flashlight out of a random drawer and continued his search. He searched all of the rooms downstairs, and then made his way upstairs, heart still racing. He'd been in the house for 15 minutes, and still no sign of Foyet, or even Jack for that matter. He had told Jack where to go, but part of him was pessimistic over whether or not he had actually made it.

Hotch made it into the bedroom, and that's when he saw her. The blood strewn corpse of his ex-wife, her eyes and mouth both still open as they were before that fatal shot that took her life. Aaron couldn't help but pain tearfully at the sight, but he couldn't let it deter him from what he was there to do, and that was to end this game between him and The Reaper, once and for all.

Something caught his eye as he looked into the mirror, but he didn't react to it, noticing a pair of shoes peering from underneath the bottom of the curtains. He waited a bit, and then spun around, emptying his entire clip into the target he knew hid behind them. Just as he suspected, the individual fell to the ground, taking the curtain rod and the curtains down with him. Hotch had fired close to 11 or 13 shots. There's no way anyone could have survived such an onslaught of gunfire. Foyet was dead, and Hotch eased up to survey his handy work, pained expression mixed with rage still plastered on his face.

As he got close and flipped Foyet over, he was greeted with a surprise. The son of a bitch was wearing Kevlar! Hotch's eyes went from Foyet's torso, to his face and it wasn't but a few seconds after that taunting smile from the killer that Foyet drilled Hotch, hard, right across the cheek, sending him down to the ground, knocking the pistol out of his hand. Foyet then took off running down a hallway, but Hotch surprised him with a shot to the back from his backup pistol, clipped to his ankle. Although the bullet didn't penetrate the flak jacket, Foyet went down, and Hotch was immediately on the chase, like a cat after a mouse. Hotch closed in, but Foyet was up, and had a pistol of his own in hand prepared to fire at the Supervisory Special Agent, but Hotch outsmarted him, strafing behind a while as the bullet missed and went into a window frame. Foyet then went on the run again as Hotch was in quick pursuit, Foyet knocking down a hallway end table to block his path, like the coward that he was.

Foyet attempted to sliver his way down the stairs, but Hotch was able to grab a hold of his limbs as they both plunged face first down the steep incline, rolling and tumbling as they hit every step on the way down, crashing into the wall that stopped them dead in their tracks. Both men were down, but not for long as Hotch got to his feet first, Foyet crawling across the ground like a toddler. Hotch planted a stiff kick to the ribs and then picked Foyet up, putting him in a headlock. Foyet responded with a sharp elbow to the face of Hotch, his nose jarring to the side temporarily as the blood began to seep from his nostrils. Hotch stopped a second to check the spot, and it cost him dearly as Foyet delivered a stiff kick to the groin before headbutting the agent. Hotch, running on pure adrenaline was unphased by the attacks and waistlocked Foyet, delivering a wrestling style back suplex through the dining room table.

Hotch was unfortunately the one who absorbed most of the impact that time as Foyet was the first to his feet, delivering another hard right hand across Hotchner's kisser, sending the agent from his knees, back to the ground again. Foyet then reached for a glass candy dish from an entertainment center and as Hotch attempted to get back up again, smashed it right over the front of his face this time, Hotchner screaming out in agony as a shard entered into his eye.

The cries of despair and torment were fulfilling to Foyet, satisfying his alpha male hunger. Here he had the great Aaron Hotchner at his mercy once again, a situation which he thoroughly enjoyed the last time they met.

Foyet looked down at a suffering Hotch, and delivered not one, not two, but three stiff kicks in a row to the agent's gut, the odds beginning to take its toll as Hotch's adrenaline rush was short lived. Foyet then pulled a gleaming blade from his back pocket, signaling the worst.

"After I finish you," he taunted, his voice like an icy whisper with a hint of growl. "I'm gonna find that little bastard son of yours, and I'm gonna show him both his dead parents, and I'm gonna tell him that it was all _your_ fault." Foyet leaned down, pulling Hotch up as Hotch continued nursing his bleeding left eye. "Then do you know what I'm gonna do? Look at me you pathetic tool!" Foyet knocked Hotch's hands away from the wound and used his free hand to force the agent's face to be level with his. "After I give him one last kiss from 'dah-dee,' I'm gonna take this blade, and run it ever so gently across his soft little neck, before I press down, and watch his eyes…" BANG!

A steady stream of blood suddenly started to trickle onto Hotchner's shirt from an unknown source as he peered into Foyet's face with the one good eye he had left, pain still shooting through the other. Foyet's eyes were wide open, mouth agaped in horror as blood started to mysteriously seep from his gullet. Hotchner glanced down and noticed the decent sized bullet hole in his attacker's neck, a bit curious as to where it came from. The Reaper's hands instantly clutched at his throat as the blood continued to seep, drenching his knuckles as he stumbled around on his feet – choking – that squirting stream of blood staining anything and everything in its path. Foyet fell to his knees, barely able to breathe as the fight continued to leave his body.

Hotch looked behind him, where he was sure the shot came from, and low and behold, there stood his former subordinate, now his supervisor.

BAU Unit Chief Derek Morgan's cold brown eyes were filled with determination and a quiet unyielding anger as he kept them dead locked on Foyet, his glock 17 still raised as he moved in closer to his target, eying the trickling blood that slowly formed a puddle in one spot. The psychopathic killer looked up and had just enough strength to force a smile before choking out a greeting to an old acquaintance of his, who he remembered spearing out of a bedroom window a couple of weeks back.

"Hello Derek," he smirked, blood dripping from his lips. The BAU Boss responded by aiming his gun one last time, firing a solitary shot right through the center of the Reaper's forehead, blood exploding out of the back as the bullet exited through his skull and Foyet fell back onto the carpet with a loud thud, his cranium bouncing up once before all was still. There was no doubt about it, this time, Foyet was dead, finally out of his and everyone else's misery.

Hotchner looked on at the corpse of the man who had caused him so much pain and agony over the past couple of weeks. He was relieved that finally, it was all over. He suddenly cried out as he blinked for the first time since his boss had entered the room, that glass shard still reeking havoc in his left eye.

Morgan holstered his weapon and ran over to his former superior's side. "Hotch, you alright?" he asked, voice full of concern. At that instant, the rest of the team came rushing into the room backed by police and SWAT. Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss and BAU Liason Jenifer Jareau flinched as their eyes immediately went to the painful sight of Hailey's lifeless corpse strewn across the carpet. Senior Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi inched his way past them, towards Hotch, the dead body of Foyet catching his peripheral sight as he glanced back with his signature suspicious look.

Rossi kneeled down to check on his colleague as his boss looked on in concern. "Hotch," began Morgan, "Where's Jack?"

"I don't know…" began the elder agent, fighting the pain, "he should be in the study…"

"Guys, stay with him," ordered the team leader as he quickly dashed up the stairs to try and find Hotch's missing 5 year old son. He checked a few rooms before finding the study located at the end of the hall. He rushed inside, moving the computer chair from underneath the table where Hotch had files stacked neatly next to a laptop computer. He peered down into the darkness, but found nothing there.

Standing back up, he noticed a large white bin with a brown lid. He approached it slowly, stopping momentarily to hope for the best, before opening it up. What he found inside caused him to breathe a major sigh of relief.

"Dah-dee told me to work da case," said the 5 year old, angelically, as if he felt he owed Derek an explanation for hiding inside the bin. He was lying on a soft thick peach colored blanket, his glistening blue eyes looking up at Derek with uncertainty as to what was going on. Morgan's heart weighed heavy as he looked back down at the boy, realizing his mother was dead, and he had no understanding of it.

"He's gonna be really proud of you, little man," replied the agent with a smile forced through the heaviness of the situation. He scooped out his arms as Jack leaned forward, allowing Morgan to pick him up and remove him from the bin. Derek set him down next to the computer chair, as he heard the sound of someone coming in behind him.

"Where's dah-dee?" asked Jack, a hint of worry present in his tone.

"The EMT's got the glass shard out of Hotch's eye," said JJ, who was the one who had entered the room. "He's fighting them pretty heavily."

"He can't be doing that," scolded Morgan with a sigh, although he understood that Hotch's main thoughts were about his son. "Are the coroners here?"

"Not yet. Hotch is outside in an ambulance."

Morgan looked at JJ and then at the confused child. "I'm taking you to your dad, okay?" he said softly. Jack nodded as Morgan stuck his arms out once More, Jack allowing him once again to pick him up so he could carry him to his father.

"Strauss is going to have a field day with this," fretted JJ pessimistically.

"I'm not worried about Strauss right now," replied Morgan, solitarily, the young child's arms wrapped around his neck as his head rested on Derek's shoulder. "A man has to do what he has to do to protect his family."

"You or Hotch?"

"Both," replied the agent, eyes filled with sorrow. Morgan then walked out of the room as JJ followed closely behind. "Jack, when I count to three, I want you to close your eyes for me, okay?" Derek did not want the child to have to see the blood soaked dead bodies downstairs, especially considering that one of them belonged to his mother. JJ looked up at the boy to make sure he was following Derek's instructions. As they reached the stairs, Morgan started the count. "1…2…3"

"Good job, sweetheart," praised JJ as she witnessed Jack doing as Morgan asked. They walked past the coroners, who were surveying the bodies, as Rossi supervised, nodding at his counterparts as they headed out the door, Jack's head still rested gently on Derek's shoulder.

They walked up to the ambulance where Reid and Prentiss stood watch over Hotch.

"I said I was alright. You got the glass out. I want to go see my son!" Hotch was frustrated and fighting with the paramedics who were trying to look him over.

"Hotch!" hearing his name, Aaron looked up to see Morgan and JJ walking towards him with Jack in Morgan's arms, relief slowly starting to overtake him. He didn't say anything as he looked on sorrowful with gratitude.

Morgan and JJ stopped as Morgan transferred the small child to his rightful owner. "I worked da case dah-dee, just like you said." Hotch responded by hugging his son tight, feeling the urge to never let him out of his sight again. Morgan looked on remorsefully as tears started forcing their way down Hotch's blood caked cheeks, the pent up emotion having nowhere to go but out.

"Thank you," choked Hotch, through borderline sobs. He looked at his colleague graciously, owing a debt of gratitude for Morgan saving the lives of him and his son. He knew that Foyet had him down and had Morgan not gotten there when he did, he and Jack likely would have joined Hailey. Thoughts of her continued to run through his mind as his sobbing increased, totally out of the norm for a man so stoic and reserved. It wasn't long before he totally lost it and broke down right in front of his teammates.

"Come on guys," instructed The Unit Chief, indicating that they should back off and give Hotch some space.

The heavy emotion was contagious as it floated through the air, infecting everyone it came in contact with, including Morgan himself although he never let it show. As Prentiss and JJ walked along side him, they wiped tears of their own away, Reid following close behind doing the same.

They had never been faced with this kind of circumstance. A tragedy hitting this close to home was sure to alter each and every one of them in some way, shape, or form. They fought monsters on a daily basis, but this was the first time they were exposed to this kind of head on horror. The closest they ever came was when Penelope Garcia got shot a few years prior, but she managed to pull through and her attacker was taken care of.

For Morgan, finishing Foyet meant more than evening the score. As he had told JJ, a man must do whatever he has to do in order to protect his family. Anytime one of his teammates was in danger, he took it personally. They _were_ his family, and he felt responsible for each and every one of them, as their leader, as their colleague, as their brother. His leadership role was only a temporary thing, as he requested. His relationship with them would last a life time.

George Foyet had 100 sins to answer for. Although dead and gone, the horrors of his work continue to haunt the hearts and souls of his victims, and his memory would live on for a long time to come. As he himself had warned, "I'm going to be more famous than you even realize." Much to everyone's heartache, pain and suffering, he was right.


End file.
